


On Love, In Truth

by Lelek



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:43:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelek/pseuds/Lelek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Languishing in the harsh, brilliant light of an endless summer afternoon, Alec watches Richard practice against the wall of their sweltering room and wants.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Love, In Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrab/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!

Languishing in the harsh, brilliant light of an endless summer afternoon, Alec watches Richard practice against the wall of their sweltering room and wants.

He's slouching low on the chaise, legs dangling over the edge, and he has a book in his lap that he's stopped pretending to read. The muscles of Richard's bare back, rippling beneath the fragile sheath of his skin, captivate him in a way nothing else has ever managed to. Not books, or illicit scholarship, or the thrill of provoking a stranger, or drugs.

"Richard," he says, raising his voice above the clatter of the sword, "it's too hot."

Richard ignores him. Richard's good at that, when he wants to be, but Alec isn't good at being ignored.

"I'm bored," he continues, slouching a little lower, crossing his arms loosely. "I can't even think with this heat." He smiles then, head lolling to the side so his cheek rubs against scratchy, worn upholstery. "And I can't fathom how you can practice in it. This much physical exertion can't be healthy."

"Discipline," Richard says, gaze still focused on the wall. "Something you could use a little more of."

Alec makes a dismissive noise and pushes damp strands of hair off his forehead with the back of his hand. It's sticky and humid and the smell coming in through the open window is abhorrent. Waste and decay and too many unwashed bodies too close together. The essence of Riverside in the summer. "Boring. Everything is boring. You should entertain me."

Richard snorts. "Entertain yourself. I'm not keeping you here." He doesn't even break form. "You could go out."

"Too miserable. I'll wait till it's dark." By then, maybe Richard will want to go with him. "You shouldn't work so hard. It's unnatural." He sits up slowly, unrolling his spine one vertebrae at a time. "You'll just end up feeling like hell later."

Richard does pause at that, turning around to finally, _finally_ look at Alec like Alec wants him to. He rests his free hand on his hip, practice sword dangling from his fingers in a move that from anyone else would look careless or lazy. Richard is neither, but Alec knows that looks can be deceiving. It's never wise to trust what your eyes tell you, not in Riverside. Not on the Hill, either, certainly not on the Hill.

"Are you finished with the advice?" Richard asks, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Maybe." Alec smiles back. "That depends on you, doesn't it?"

Richard's eyes rake over him and Alec leans back on his elbows, exposing his throat and chest. He isn't really designed to be seductive, too harsh and angular to play the coquette with any credibility, but his shirt is open to his breastbone and, where Alec is concerned, Richard is easy. 

It's never wise to trust what your eyes tell you, but Alec knows Richard and he knows that look.

Desire.

"I thought you said it was too hot for physical exertion," Richard points out archly.

"Did I?" Alec tilts his head to the side, hair sliding away from his throat, where there's a faded hint of a bruise from earlier in the week. "Perhaps I should have been more specific. _Some_ forms of physical exertion are _always_ acceptable."

Richard sets the sword down and crosses the space between them, leaning over Alec with a smile of his own, close but not yet touching. His breath against Alec's face is hotter even than the still air when he says, "Is that so?"

"Of course it is." Alec blinks slowly. "Do you have any more questions?"

"Maybe one or two..." Richard starts to say before Alec runs out of patience and reaches up to wrap a hand around the back of his neck and pull him down into a kiss. It's messy and wet, the angle a little awkward, but then Richard climbs over him on the chaise, straddling his legs and cupping his face in his broad hands, the book falling to the floor, and their mouths slot together like puzzle pieces. Perfect.

Alec has never kissed anyone the way he kisses Richard. Or perhaps it's more accurate to say no one has ever kissed _him_ the way Richard does. Deep and thorough, like his mouth is a foreign country to be invaded and claimed. Every curve and ridge, the old scars from where he bites the inside of his cheek sometimes until the skin splits and bleeds, are all explored and known and wanted and loved.

He slides his hands along the bow of Richard's shoulders, palms mapping damp skin. Richard's body tells a story, a history that Alec doesn't always understand. Sometimes he wants to understand, sometimes he doesn't, when he just wants to live in the present moment and remember nothing of the past. When he's with Richard like this, mouths moving together, hands touching and stroking, and he can almost imagine that they are the only two people left in the world, alone together with nothing else to think about.

And always, always there's that need to be closer, and closer still, until there isn't even room for air between them. Until he can't tell where he ends and Richard begins and this thing they have is the only thing that matters.

Richard nuzzles the underside of Alec's jaw and bites down on the side of his neck. Alec digs his fingers into Richard's shoulders and closes his eyes with a sigh that hitches into a moan as Richard's teeth are replaced by his lips, soft and rough at once, and Richard's hands shove his shirt off his shoulders before reaching to open his trousers.

He's read books that tell of all these things and they taught him nothing.

Later, much later, when the sun is setting and Richard is back to practicing but might be willing to go out, Alec watches and knows that he will never get over him, not as long as he lives. 

He doesn't say it. He'll probably never say it. But he smiles anyway, just to himself, because the horrifying, beautiful, awful part of it all is that it's neither more nor less than the truth.


End file.
